


Agape (Love)

by cuecard



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: AU, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-29
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-09-02 02:01:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16777393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuecard/pseuds/cuecard
Summary: “You look beautiful, Charlotte.” She does. Charlotte is the most stunning bride Becky has ever seen.“I’m getting married today.”“I know.”“You said you’d never hurt me.”“I know, and am really sorry about that. I just… wanted to make sure that you are doing the right thing, Charlotte.”“I am,” Charlotte replies quietly, like she’s testing the words out for herself.“Alright.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written any fanfics for a long time but I really love these two together so I thought why not? Flashbacks are all in italics so they should be pretty easy to recognise :) 
> 
> (I also have no idea why I imagined Becky as a mechanic, it just came to me while I was writing this so I decided to roll with it!)

**Bear’s Den; Agape  
** _  
For I’m so scared of losing you and I don’t know what I can do about it, so tell me how long love before you go and leave me here on my own…_

* * *

_After hovering for ten minutes and risking herself looking like a creep, Becky Lynch knocks three times on the door and waits, her breath coming in frustrated puffs. For over a minute there’s nothing but silence, then a metallic clink – the chain being unclipped from the other side of the door.  
  
The wooden door swings open and Charlotte Flair stands before her, her skin is pale and a layer of sweat almost shines. She’s wearing baggy royal blue sweatpants, an oversized plain white t-shirt and her hair is tied up away from her face.  
  
“Oh, it’s you.” Charlotte’s voice is flat and noncommittal and she seems surprised that Becky is there, standing in the middle of her doorway.  
  
“Ey, sorry. Am I interrupting anything?”  
  
“My work out. What do you want?”  
  
A born hostess, Becky thinks sarcastically. If Charlotte has a personality, which Becky is seriously beginning to doubt, there are no signs of it right now. “I want an apology for earlier.”  
  
“No,” Charlotte answers almost immediately.  
  
Becky sighs, suddenly feeling like a defiant and petulant child. “Fine, I’ll just stand here and keep banging on your door until I get one.”  
  
“You don’t give up do you? Come in and shut the door.”  
  
Charlotte shakes her head in disbelief, gesturing Becky through the large stately hall and into a stark kitchen with sparkling black tiles and a sink that Becky can almost see her reflection in. Expensive pots and pans hang in a glass cupboard and there are several equally expensive appliances lined along the counter.  
  
The oven is lit, filling the air with the sweetness of baking. For some reason Becky can’t imagine this girl having any sort of domestic side but she obviously does. She obviously has a softer side, a side that she goes to great lengths to hide._ _  
  
“So am I getting an apology or what?” Becky presses.  
  
Charlotte gives her an irritated look and leads Becky through towards the living room.  
  
It’s the polar opposite to what Becky has seen of the house so far – surprisingly warm, with a red chair and two smaller red leather sofa’s that hold an array of pillows. The glass coffee table is decorated with an iPod and several stacks of paper that have writing visible on them, Becky’s pretty sure the exact same papers are in her bag still waiting to be completed. There’s a vase in the middle of the table filled with flowers too.  
  
“To answer your earlier question, Rebecca, there will be no apology.”  
  
Becky’s pretty sure that the colour in her own cheeks has turned a darker shade of pink in fury. “No one calls me Rebecca and you don’t apologise to people for being beyond rude in class?”  
  
Charlotte refuses to take the bait. She just stands there with her hand in her right pocket, twisting something over in her fingers. “I debated with you in our English class and I was right, am I wrong?" Charlotte asks, before adding “no” to answer her own question. “That’s not being rude, that’s just a fact.”  
  
“What the hell is your issue with me?” Charlotte’s light eyes flicker a little in Becky’s direction. “Just admit that you were rude, apologise and I’ll leave you in peace.”  
  
Charlotte’s eyes gaze at Becky like she’s invisible but her mouth remains shut. Biting back temper, Becky decides.  
  
“There’s no apology. If you want to bang on our front door all night then I maybe should have let you, you’ll end up getting bored of it far quicker than I will.”  
  
“Y’know what?” Becky mumbles, “it’s fine, you’re actually a little insufferable, it’s no wonder you don’t have many friends at school. I don’t want your damn apology.”  
  
Charlotte just stares at her for a moment while Becky’s angry words register, and then Becky see’s all the hard exasperation drain from Charlotte’s eyes, leaving little mirrors of devastation. Becky’s hit a major nerve and she’s no idea why but she feels a brand new kind of guilt, as if she’s just let Charlotte down personally.  
  
Fuck. Fuck. And fuck again.  
  
In the next instant the look of devastation is gone from Charlotte’s face, replaced by an anger that far exceeds Becky’s own.  
  
“Let me get this straight,” Charlotte’s voice is low and quiet as she lets the words hang in the air for a second to make sure that Becky knows they are aimed directly at her, as if they could be aimed at anyone else anyway. “You knock on my door to demand an apology from me and then insult me in my own house?”  
  
Becky moves her shoulders inside her hoodie, trying to loosen the muscles that currently feel like coiled springs. And okay, yeah, she’s probably not handled this situation well at all but she feels her defences kicking in and she knows they are wrong but she can’t stop them. “You were rude to me and I don’t let people get away with that.”  
  
“You’re hardly a delight yourself,” Charlotte bites back sharply.  
  
Becky wisely keeps her mouth shut this time around.  
  
“Get out. Now.”  
  
Becky’s phone rings as she’s passing back through the kitchen and she tugs it out of her pocket before pressing it to her ear.  
  
“Are you alive?” Sasha says into her ear.  
  
“Barely. Where the hell you been?”  
  
“Long story, I got talking to Bayley, actually it’s really only a short story. Are you still at Charlotte’s?”  
  
“I’m just leaving, I’ll see you in 10 minutes. It didn’t go well.” She hears Sasha let out a ‘duh’ before she hangs up.  
  
Becky starts to put the phone back into her pocket, then feeling a pang of guilt, she turns and looks at Charlotte who is standing with her back to her, looking out the window with her arms crossed over her chest in a classic angry posture. She lays her phone on the kitchen counter instead and makes a show of sorting her bag before making her way down the hallway towards the front door.  
  
Becky hears the chain start to slide into place before the door is even shut right. She makes her way to the end of the street and waits for a few minutes to make it seem honest before she turns back on her heels and walks back towards Charlotte’s door, knocking exactly three times again.  
  
Charlotte makes her wait longer this time, intentionally, Becky is sure of that. At last the door opens and Charlotte glares at her like she’s an insect she’d like to crush.  
  
“Just because I didn’t shut the door on you the first time around doesn’t mean I won’t do it this time.”  
  
“You won’t, Charlotte.”  
  
“Oh really? Try me.”  
  
“You won’t.” Becky points to the doormat that Charlotte is currently standing on. “Because it says ‘welcome’ right there under your feet.”  
  
The sides of Charlotte’s mouth twitch a little in what may be the beginning of a real smile, Becky thinks she’d actually really like to see that real smile, but she doesn’t get the chance to because Charlotte controls it admirably.  
  
“What do you want? And don’t say an apology because the answer is still no.”  
  
“I think I left my phone on your kitchen counter while I was fixing my bag.”  
  
“Awesome,” Charlotte deadpans and she would have rolled her eyes but she fears they might shatter right there and then in her head. “I’ll get it for you.” It takes her 30 seconds to reappear with Becky’s phone and she holds it out at arm’s length, like it’s infected with something dangerous.  
  
“Thanks.” Becky’s thankful, she really is, but she’s also stubborn as hell and she’s pretty sure Charlotte is going to slam the door on her again. “So really no apology?”  
  
“Jesus,” Charlotte says under her breath. “No.”  
  
“Alright, how about this then? You say sorry and I’ll help you catch up with the work you have missed over the last week or so in English?” Becky offers. “I know you’ve been ill, word gets around fast at our school.”  
  
“Why?” Charlotte questions, and Becky knows she’s wary. “If this is some sort of prank – “  
  
“It isn’t,” Becky cuts her off before she goes any further because no, Becky isn’t as cruel as that. “I’m really just being friendly in exchange for an apology.”  
  
“Fine.”  
  
“Ah, so you are sorry then?”  
  
Charlotte bites her cheek before she speaks because damn this girl. “Yes, I’m sorry, Becky. Come around on Saturday, we can make a schedule or something.”  
  
The door shuts hard behind her but Becky doesn’t care. She’s smiling. Actually she’s grinning and she has no idea why. The grin vanishes when she reaches the steps though because she can hardly keep up with school work herself and there’s no way in hell she can be a good tutor for someone like Charlotte.  
_

_  
_ *****

Becky’s heart stutters a little. Actually, it stutters a lot – to the point where she thinks it may have stopped completely. Charlotte has one of those startlingly beautiful faces that will still be attractive in fifty years time. Her eyes are watching as Becky shifts clumsily on her feet.  
  
And Becky can’t concentrate, no seriously, she really can’t. She’s pretty sure her knees are about to bend and then buckle and oh God, what a mess. She hasn’t said a word in what feels like two hours but she knows it’s closer to two minutes and she’s not sure she can trust her mouth to say anything anyway.  
  
But then Charlotte is raising an eyebrow in her direction and Becky’s mouth opens at its own accord anyway. _Traitor.  
  
_“You’re uh,” Becky clears her throat hoping to get rid of the words that are currently wrapped around her tongue and clogging her throat, “you’re getting married? To Thomas?”  
  
Charlotte is getting married. She’s getting married and Becky has no idea what the fuck she is supposed to say to that. One day Becky is pretty sure she’s going to choke to death on unsaid words when it comes to Charlotte Flair. But she’s reassured somewhat when she feels it kick starting in her chest. Her heart hasn’t dissolved in its protective cage of ribs after all – it’s still there, beating away erratically to its own melancholy tune.  
  
Maybe she should tell Charlotte that she hates Thomas and she’s pretty sure that he doesn’t like her either. That had all but been confirmed a few months ago when Charlotte had been involved in a car collision. Thomas had politely told Becky at the hospital that Charlotte was tired and he didn’t think she’d be up for visitors. Becky had promptly told him that he was confusing her with someone who gave a shit about what he wanted. He hasn’t spoken to Becky since and she’s just fine with that.  
  
Maybe she should tell Charlotte that they all really can’t stand Thomas. It’s not just her, honestly, it isn’t.  
  
Maybe she should tell Charlotte that she’s pathetically in love with her and hope that Charlotte loves her back. But Becky knows that it’s worse to hope because it’s the hope that ends up killing you. Dante should have a special circle of hell reserved for those who dare to dream about that kind of thing working out.  
  
“I’m getting married, I know it’s kind of soon but when you know… then.”  
  
Becky only nods once because yeah, she does know. Is Charlotte really that oblivious to her?  
  
“Congratulations, Charlotte.”  
  
Charlotte beams at her then, and honestly? Charlotte’s smile shames the sun so Becky can’t help but smile back. It’s a fake smile but Becky hides it well, she’s had plenty of practice when it comes to Charlotte. Becky realises then that people think they’ve been in the shit before but until something like this happens and turns their world upside down they have absolutely no idea how deep shit can really be.  
  
Then Charlotte is putting both of her hands on Becky’s shoulders and squeezing just enough so that Becky feels it. Becky feels the pain start in her right arm. It’s only then that she realises she’s been clutching her fists so tightly that the blood can’t navigate its own way through her arms. Charlotte’s head tilts down slightly and the sun catches her eyes and they are so clear and warm, and the light touches Charlotte the way Becky wants to.  
  
“So, I haven’t told the others yet because I wanted to ask you first.” Charlotte smiles again. Becky tries to replicate it but she’s pretty sure her face is failing.  
  
“Ask me what?”  
  
“If you’ll be a bridesmaid, obviously!”  
  
Becky closes her eyes and then opens them a moment later, like she’s erasing this entire conversation from her memory. She wishes she could.  
  
“Of course I will.” Her fake smile is back.  
  
She’s glutton for punishment. She’s saying yes to watching her worst nightmare play out in front of her very own eyes and she can’t do anything to stop it because she knows she would do anything for Charlotte. And if not ruining Charlotte’s big day is what she has to do then so be it.  
  
Charlotte wraps her up in a hug then, arms around Becky’s neck as always and it’s so familiar and intimate that Becky feels it seizing in her chest. It’s like a carving knife made of coloured light.  
  
Becky stares up at the cloudless baby blue sky and wishes that her thoughts were just as clear.

  
*****

 _She’s sitting on the park bench when a scrambling sound behind her breaks her out of her thoughts. Two hands are placed on the bench at the left hand side of her and finally a person appears in the corner of her eye.  
  
“What are you doing here, Becky?”  
  
Becky swings two athletic legs over the bench with relative ease and slides down into the wooden seat beside her, as if scaling a park bench to talk to Charlotte is a normal course of events for them – it isn’t. They’ve spoken much more than they used to over the past few months but Charlotte still isn’t sure she’d consider them ‘friends’.  
  
Becky frowns and tips her head up in Charlotte’s direction. “Are you okay?”  
  
“No.”  
  
Now this is funny. To the people, who have known and loved her for years, she lies like crazy, telling them that she is fine. To Becky, still a relative stranger no less, her traitorous mouth has decided to tell the truth.  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Is it bad that I can’t really explain why? Just everything is getting to me: school, parents, thinking of what I’m going to do with my life. It’s confusing and I don’t have it all figured out yet.”  
  
A slow smile spreads across Becky’s face. “Does anyone have it all figured out really?” She pushes against Charlotte’s shoulder for good measure.  
  
For God sake. Here she is confessing some home truths to Becky and Becky’s pushing against her shoulder while practically laughing at her.  
  
“It’s okay to not have everything figured out, Charlotte. But you will eventually because you’re smart.”  
  
Charlotte doesn’t really have an answer to that so she decides to roll her eyes instead.  
  
“I want to give you something.” Becky digs under the orange t-shirt that matches her hair and pulls out a piece of black rope and peels it over her head. She holds up the wooden hand crafted crown that’s attached to the rope and it almost sparkles in the light from the morning sun above them. “You know what this is?”  
  
“Sure. It’s a necklace. Where did you get it?”  
  
“I made it a long time ago and it’s given me inspiration when I needed it. Don’t look at me like that, I’m good with my hands,” Becky says with a wink and Charlotte can only roll her eyes again before she speaks.  
  
“You’re ridiculous.”  
  
Becky slips the rope over Charlotte’s head and smiles at her, white teeth against her pale skin. “You need this more than me right now.”  
  
“But we’re not even friends – “  
  
“Sure we are. Actually, you should come to our game night one time; it’s not a big group of us or anything. We just eat pizza, drink some beer and play stupid video games and stuff. You might even enjoy yourself.”  
  
Charlotte closes her eyes briefly before she opens them against so that she can look at Becky, there’s tears staining her cheeks now and she wipes at them harshly with her hand. Becky puts her arm around her shoulder and pulls her closer. “Life sucks sometimes but you can cry Charlotte, I’m not going anywhere, my shoulder is here all morning free of charge.”  
  
_ _-  
  
_ _The first time Charlotte takes Becky’s game night offer up she’s a little early and she’s well aware of it but she chooses to ignore whatever that means. There’s a six pack of beer tucked under her arm as she knocks on the door three times and waits, the rain that was threatening earlier has now arrived in an annoying drizzle.  
  
“Charlotte, you came!” Becky beams and there’s a hint of surprise in her voice, like she’d been expecting Charlotte to cancel or just not show up at all.  
  
“I said I would, you didn’t really give me much choice anyway, did you?”  
  
“True! Come in. We’re down in the basement.”  
  
“Isn’t that how every horror film begins?” Charlotte jokes as Becky takes the six pack from her and makes a show of widening her eyes and nodding furiously.  
  
“You’re ridiculous, Becky.”  
  
“You’ve said that before and yet here you are. Anyway, how are you at card games?”  
  
Charlotte removes her jacket and wipes some of the rain off it before draping it over her arm. She’s always found it useful to have something in her hand to hold when she’s nervous. “Card games, seriously?”  
  
“It’s fun!”  
  
Before she can reply, Becky has taken her free hand and is dragging her towards stairs that lead downwards. She refuses to acknowledge the vibrant spread of warmth that races through her.  
  
There’s seven of them already sitting around a large oval table by the time they get to the bottom of the stairs. Charlotte recognises several faces but there’s a few that she doesn’t. Becky takes her jacket from her and tells her to take a seat.  
  
Charlotte sits at the end of the table, slow and casual, wanting to look like less of an invasion on the group, wanting to anchor herself at that end of the room, knowing a standing person will be told to sit and often where, whereas a sitting person is rarely moved.  
  
And it’s ridiculous really because she knows most of these people. Okay, she doesn’t know them well or anything but she’s aware of who they are and their names and she knows they know about her too. Becky smiles across at her when she finally sits down, handing beers around, and Charlotte nearly forgets what she was even nervous about.  
  
Two hours later, Charlotte stares across the table at Becky who is concentrating on her cards, she makes a troubled face and then mutters the words “I’m out”. There’s only two of them left now, Charlotte looks across at the girl she now knows as Nia who is looking surprisingly smug but there’s no way she has better cards than Charlotte, surely?  
  
The night has gone surprisingly well and although they are only playing for a pot of around fifteen bucks, Charlotte has always been competitive regardless of the game and tonight is no different.  
  
Becky stands up from her chair and makes her way around to where Charlotte is. Becky stands behind her and then crouches a little to see her cards and lets out a low whistle that leaves air blowing across Charlotte’s cheek. Charlotte feels butterflies floating around her stomach but she does her best to ignore them too. She’s getting good at ignoring things when it comes to Becky Lynch.  
  
“I take it you’re in then?” Nia says and she’s still looking pretty smug which is slightly annoying.  
  
“All in.”  
  
Becky’s hand goes to her shoulder and there’s pressure when she squeezes slightly.  
  
Nia places her cards face up on the table and Charlotte has to admit that is a damn good hand. It’s a good hand but it’s not good enough. She turns her own cards up and feels that pressure on her shoulder again.  
  
“Straight flush,” Charlotte announces.  
  
“Damn, Charlotte, you’re like the card queen!” Sasha protests from her right. “You gotta give us all a chance.”  
  
“Tell me about it,” Nia agrees.  
  
“Beaten square and Flair,” Becky muses with a laugh and it’s such a bad pun but Charlotte finds herself laughing along as she scoops the fifteen bucks towards her.  
  
By the time Charlotte is ready to leave everyone else has already gone, she tosses the last beer bottle into the trash and rolls the muscles in her shoulders that have almost gone to sleep with sitting for so long.  
  
“I’ll get your jacket for you,” Becky says as she makes her way across the room. Their fingers brush as she hands the leather jacket to Charlotte, and Becky hesitates a little, Charlotte can feel Becky’s fingers feather light against her knuckles.  
  
“Next time,” Becky begins, “I’m on your team at whatever we play, I could use the extra cash.”  
  
“You’re – “  
  
“Ridiculous?” Becky interrupts with a smile that reaches her eyes, “I know.”  
  
Charlotte feels the butterflies start to swoon in her stomach again. She’s in big trouble._

  
*****

Becky avoids Charlotte for nearly two weeks, it’s never actually said out loud but she’s pretty sure that the others know she’s avoiding Charlotte too. She’s grateful that they have the decency to pretend that it isn’t happening because if she can pretend then she doesn’t have to face the gigantic elephant in the room.  
  
She avoids Charlotte for nearly two weeks until Charlotte practically arranges a meeting with them all. It’s actually a really impressive effort from Becky considering they work on the same street and usually see each other coming and going every day. She pitches herself on the edge of Charlotte’s sofa and she feels a little easier when Sasha sits next to her because Sasha is always a safe refuge for her. Sasha gets it, Sasha _knows.  
  
_Becky tells herself – repeatedly for that matter – that it simply cannot get any worse but apparently it can. She listens to Charlotte tell them her plans and her and Thomas don’t want a big fancy wedding, they want a gathering at the church and then a bigger reception of family and friends to celebrate.  
  
Becky knows it’s all bullshit because Charlotte had told her years ago that she wanted an extravagant wedding because she’d only planned on doing it once.  
  
She hears the words ‘peach’ and ‘blue’ and she’s pretty sure that’s the colours Charlotte is debating about picking for their bridesmaid dresses. She also hears that Charlotte doesn’t want roses or typical wedding flowers, she wants something unique and even Becky musters a genuine smile then because that’s the Charlotte she knows. She then hears that all of this will be taking place in just 4 months because it seems her and Thomas _really_ can’t wait to be married.  
  
Becky rakes her hand through her hair and presses her palms against her eyes. Colours and fireworks explode and dance behind her eyelids creating a rainbow mesh of colours. The world is giving her reminders of what she doesn’t have and can never have and honestly the world can go fuck itself because what’s worse than wanting something, except knowing you can’t have it?  
  
The room is suddenly spinning and Becky needs to leave. Becky needs to leave right now because her stomach is in ropes and if she stays any longer she’s pretty sure the ropes are going to wrap around her organs and squeeze the last drop of life out of her.  
  
“I gotta go.”  
  
They all look at her then and she feigns a look at the watch on her wrist.  
  
“I told a client I’d check his car over tonight as a favour. Sorry I can’t stay longer.”  
  
She refuses Charlotte’s offer to see her to the door, telling the blonde that it’s fine and she should stay and continue her planning with the rest of them. “You can text me the details,” she says with a weak smile before she leaves and she knows Charlotte has questions for her, she can almost see them tripping over themselves on the blonde’s tongue.  
  
But Charlotte doesn’t ask them and Becky does leave.  
  
She breaks into a run as soon as she’s far enough from Charlotte’s house. She runs and she runs and she runs until there’s sweat gathering at the small of her back and at her hairline.  
  
She runs until her legs and heart can’t take anymore.

*****

_Parties just aren’t Becky’s thing. They never have been and probably never will be. They are always so messy and always involve way more nakedness and stupid dares that Becky can deal with. It’s even worse this time though because this time the party is theirs. Well, the soccer team’s anyway.  
  
It’s been banging on for nearly three hours now and damn Sasha to hell because this was her bright idea. The place is already a hot mess. The house is trashed really. There’s empty paper cups on every surface, bottles all over the floor – Becky can even see bottles lined up in a ten pin bowling formation in the kitchen – and the music is bouncing off the walls, along with a few people who can’t handle their alcohol apparently as they too are bouncing off the walls.  
  
“Cheer up, Becky!” Bayley shouts from beside her and Becky can tell her friend has had too much to drink because her cheeks are rosy and it’s actually kind of adorable. “Do you want to dance?”  
  
“Nah.”  
  
“Boring!” Charlotte replies from Becky’s other side, she takes another sip of her colourful drink and sits it down before turning to Bayley and putting her hand out, palm upwards. “I’ll dance with you.” Charlotte has become a bit of a social butterfly since she started hanging out with Becky and the rest of them, it’s really no coincidence is it?  
  
Bayley takes Charlotte’s hand and Becky watches as they make their way into the mass of swaying bodies in the middle of the floor. Becky’s no expert but she’s pretty sure Charlotte is the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen; she’s beautiful by every text book definition. She’s tall and athletic, her hair is blonde and shiny, her smile is stunning and she always smells incredible regardless of the time of day or what she’s been doing. _

_Becky’s got this totally inappropriate crush under control though so it’s fine. Right?  
  
“Stop giving Charlotte heart eyes if you aren’t going to do anything about it,” Sasha says from behind her and Becky almost has a heart attack.  
  
“Jesus, Sasha, are you tryna’ kill me?”  
  
“I’m just saying, you’ll be off to college soon so you should make your mind up before then.”  
  
“Shut up.” Becky punches Sasha in the arm, soft enough that it passes for playfully but with enough force that Sasha drops the subject and goes to join Charlotte and Bayley dancing.  
  
Becky’s totally screwed.  
  
-  
  
When Charlotte’s eyes open she forgets where she is, she just knows immediately that this isn’t her bed and then she remembers the party and groans a little. They’d gone back to Sasha’s house together: her, Sasha, Bayley and Becky.  
  
Becky is next to her in bed and is on her side, her face half covered with that orange hair that never fails to make Charlotte smile, her dark eyes are watching Charlotte, and she seems totally relaxed for someone who has just been caught staring.  
  
Maybe Charlotte is wrong and the darkness of the room is playing tricks on her but then Becky moves ever so slightly and breathes out and Charlotte feels it ghost across her face. She knows then that Becky is definitely awake too.  
  
Becky’s heart is beating erratically behind her chest, there’s a flutter that sneaks between her ribs and up to the base of her neck, the sensation feels so real that she has to clear her throat a little. She doesn’t stop looking though, she blinks a few times to let Charlotte know that yes, she’s definitely awake and definitely aware of what she’s doing.  
  
To her credit, Charlotte is looking back at her now and for once Becky has no idea what to do when it comes to Charlotte Flair. She’s never been particularly good with words but actions? Actions she can manage.  
  
She sneaks her foot across the single bed so that it tangles with Charlotte’s calf, drawing them together. Then she reaches across and slips her fingers into Charlotte’s own, threading their fingers together. Becky doesn’t say anything though because she’s not actually sure she’d be able to so she traps her lip with her teeth and wonders if she’s doing the right thing.  
  
Becky tries to slow her mind down and then gives up, pushing herself forward and pressing a gentle kiss to Charlotte’s lips and then pulling back almost immediately. But then she feels Charlotte’s slender fingers curl around her neck and pull her fully back into the kiss. _

_It’s different this time.  
  
It’s hot and heavy. Charlotte’s hand presses against her cheek and then they move through her hair, drawing Becky impossibly closer. There’s a dip in Becky’s stomach with every movement of their lips and when she feels Charlotte’s tongue brush against her own she brazenly slips her hand around Charlotte’s hip to thumb at the bare skin where her vest top has ridden up. Kissing Charlotte is like a whole other experience to anyone she’s kissed before.  
  
Admittedly she’s thought about kissing Charlotte Flair a hundred times before but the reality is so much better than she’d even imagined.  
  
Then there’s movement across the room as Sasha or Bayley turn over on the other bed and the intrusion feels like a bucket of cold water has been thrown over them.  
  
Charlotte slowly peers over Becky’s shoulder and finds that neither of their friends is actually awake. Charlotte doesn’t really know what she should do but she knows what her and Becky definitely shouldn’t do right now. Against her better judgement she leans forward and presses a kiss to the corner of Becky’s mouth and then turns so that she’s facing the wall. She wills her heart to slow down before it bursts out of her chest.  
  
Guilt is the immediate feeling in her stomach because she doesn’t want Becky to think that she has done anything wrong because Charlotte has wanted to kiss Becky pretty much since she’d barged into Charlotte’s house and they’d had that argument.  
  
She’s surprised when she feels lips press against her bare shoulder and then Becky’s arm drapes around her hip to pull her closer, and Charlotte is only too happy to oblige and leans back slightly so that their hands can clasp together again.  
  
In the morning Charlotte doesn’t mention their kiss and so Becky doesn’t either.  
  
Becky wonders if last night was all a dream.  
_

***** _  
_

It’s three weeks after she’d run out of Charlotte’s house when Becky steps around the sleek black bike to turn up the volume on her speaker when she hears the familiar introductory drum beat of the song. The speakers dance with music, it’s all big guitars and punchy drums and catchy lyrics and it makes her garage pulse enthusiastically with sound.  
  
She places the wrench on the work bench and wipes her dirty hands on her clean up rag. She stares at the midnight blue vintage Camaro that she’s been lovingly putting back together for the last six months and wonders why it hasn’t captured her attention tonight.  
  
_“…_ _now, you hung with me when all the others turned away, turned up their nose, we liked the same music, we liked the same bands, we liked the same clothes…_ ” she sings as she retrieves the socket wrench and lowers herself onto the knee pad beside the bike.  
  
It’s almost seven in the evening and an empty pizza box lies at the opposite side of the garage, it’s still light outside. Becky can see the last of it filtering in from the top window. The whole place smells of grease and oil and pizza. It’s an odd combination.  
  
Charlotte’s face swims before Becky’s eyes as she reaches inside the guts of the bike and finds the rear end of the crankshaft. She places the socket wrench over the metal bolt and turns the wrench clockwise. ‘ _Righty tighty, lefty loosey_ ’ Becky thinks in her head.  
  
_“…you'll hear me sing this song, well if you do you'll know I'm thinking of you and all the miles in between and I'm just calling you one last time, not to change your mind, but just to say I miss you baby, good luck, goodbye… “_  
  
Becky turns the wrench again but the bolt refuses to budge. She’s already constructed the bearing, sprocket, clamping washer and rotor. The bolt is the final piece and the fucking thing is refusing to tighten where it should. Becky stares at it and silently pleads for it to move for its own good. It doesn’t. Seems her telepathic pleas with metal hardware isn’t all she thought it was.  
  
Charlotte’s face swims in front of her eyes again and Becky focuses her anger on the arm of the wrench and gives it one almighty turn. The thread breaks and the bolt turns freely.  
  
“Fuck!” she shouts, throwing the wrench down and onto the concrete floor with a bang. Then “shit” because goddamn her luck right now. She throws in a “fuck this” for good measure, thinking that the last fifteen minutes pretty much sum up her life at the moment. She’s aware that her hands have started to shake in anger and so she balls them into a fist to remove the tremor. It works for the most part.  
  
She leans down on one knee to have a look at the damage she’s inflicted on the bike. It had taken her over a month to track those bloody bolts down. She eases the socket into position and turns the wrench again between her thumb and forefinger just as the door to her garage bursts open.  
  
“Hey!”  
  
“Jesus, Sasha. Is your plan to actually kill me of a heart attack one day?”  
  
“Is this really your solution to things? Because that’s not the Becky I know.”  
  
Becky drags herself to her feet and wipes her hands on the rag again, leaning over to turn the speaker down. She’s pretty sure she has oil on her face too judging by the way Sasha is staring at her with a scrunched nose and grimace.  
  
“My solution to things? It’s a Saturday night and I’m using my own free time to do what I want.”  
  
“Oh, don’t play dumb, Becky. It really doesn’t suit you. Charlotte knows something is going on with you.”  
  
Becky scoffs then. “Oh, does she now?”  
  
“Well she wouldn’t need to be a rocket scientist to figure it out.”  
  
Becky pulls the goggles she wears to keep metal and oil away from her eyes down and over her face, placing them on the seat of the bike. “What am I supposed to say to her exactly? Hey, Charlotte, you shouldn’t marry him because I’ve been in love with you since I was like seventeen and sometimes I think you might love me too?”  
  
Sasha nods eagerly. “Yes! If you think she isn’t in love with you then you’re blind. She just needs a… nudge in the right direction or a push even.”  
  
“Do you really think I’ve not tried to tell her?” Becky all but shouts, “because believe me I have! But things get in the way like being half way across the country for four years, like her thinking something was going on with with my roommate of all people, like Thomas!”  
  
“Sasha’s right,” the voice comes from Bayley who’s now also standing at the foot of her garage door and Becky almost has another heart attack. Maybe that wouldn’t be the worst alternative right now. “When you find the person that you think fits then go and get them. Hold onto Charlotte’s ankles if you need to, I don’t know, just say something!”  
  
“Okay,” Becky says softly trying to calm Bayley a little, “chill.”  
  
“I try, but sometimes you’re really stupid, Becky.” Bayley adds a shrug and that’s the end of that argument.

  
*****

Becky parks her bike at the side of a large building with a decidedly red cast to the old brick, gets off, and looks further down the street. Sasha has just appeared from the corner and she sends a smile on ahead to Becky as usual. She’s wearing a brand new jet-black pea coat with a collar that clashes with her bright hair and Becky kinda likes it.  
  
“Becky, you look like a biker gang misfit,” Sasha says when she reaches Becky’s side.  
  
Becky grins then. “Maybe that’s the look I’m going for these days.” Her voice is surprisingly sugar cane sweet for a Monday morning. “What d’you think?”  
  
“I like it,” Sasha decides. “How was the rest of your weekend burying your head in the sand?”  
  
Becky rolls her eyes and lets out a heavy sigh as they walk around the corner of the building towards the front door of the garage, the thud of their boots echoing on the sidewalk. They’re a daunting pair. They’re a pair that turns heads when they are seen together in public. There’s a powerful aurora about them that attracts obvious attention from people.

“I take it you got Charlotte’s text last night?” Sasha asks as Becky digs around for the keys in her bag.  
  
“I did, not sure what she wants me to do, flowers aren’t really my thing.”  
  
“Ladies.”  
  
They both turn around to see Roman standing with a sugar coated doughnut stuck between his perfect white teeth. He’s built like a house and his long dark hair is enough to make some women jealous. He’s the best mechanic Becky has ever met beside herself.  
  
“That’s disgusting at this time of the morning,” Sasha says as Becky pushes against the door and it finally opens to reveal the lower level of the garage she’s worked so hard for.  
  
She heads to the far right of the room while removing her jacket. The place is huge. Huge and empty save for a small desk with a coffee and tea machine and a table with various tools and electrical machinery. The windows at the back let in enough light to power half the city so she has to look on the bright side of things - literally.  
  
A project like this is good for her right now.  
  
“I told you not to bring that crap in here anymore,” Becky grumbles as she reaches for her overalls while staring at the bakery box resting on Roman’s arm. “Any plain ones left?”  
  
Roman holds out his giant arm in offering. “Do I ever let you down?”  
  
“I hate you.” Becky snatches for the plain sugar while Sasha settles on something sweeter.  
  
Roman sits his huge frame on a small section of the desk and beams up at Becky. “Ready to get started? Or are you two too busy discussing wedding stuff?”  
  
“Nah,” Becky replies as she chucks a pair of overalls in Roman’s direction. “No one is banging on about any wedding today, already had it up to here,” she adds as she brings her hand up to the top of her head to demonstrate. “We need to get this place ready for opening.”  
  
“Becky, Charlotte really – “  
  
“Sasha, I’m not in the mood and that’s all I’m saying. If she’s that stuck on what flowers to pick tell her to go to a damn florist. Now, I need to get started on this place.”  
  
Beside her, Roman is rising to his full height after leaning down to slip the overalls over his boots. It’s like watching a bear unfold on two feet. Becky knows he’ll have questions but she just hopes he has the decency not to ask them.  
  
Five hours later when they finally break for a late lunch he puts his giant arm around her to give her a hug and she knows that he’s got the message: Yeah, he knows she’s hurting about something but he’s there if she needs him.

  
*****

_As Charlotte hustles through the airport’s bright and noisy floor – fuck, she’s late, so fucking late – she finds herself thinking about how this seems to be the only way they see each other nowadays. Airport stops or a quick bite to eat whenever Becky comes home for a visit.  
  
This is their halfway point now.  
  
While phone calls, texts and emails are great for keeping in touch, no technology – not even Facetime or Skype – can ever replace or even come close to replicating the feeling you get sitting next to someone, talking and laughing, sharing stories and drinks. Which is why, when Becky told her she’d been delayed earlier in the day, Charlotte had told her she’d meet her here.  
  
Charlotte was meeting her just before nine thirty at night and wasn’t expecting to hit any significant traffic on the way there – she’d been wrong. Still, she had given herself an extra thirty minutes because she didn’t want to risk being late. By the time she reached the airport she figured she only had about twenty minutes before Becky had to catch her plane.  
  
One of their favourite meeting spots inside the airport is a retro lounge called ‘The Bar’. It has dark furniture and bright red leather chairs and stools and lots of chilled mood lighting. It’s the sort of place you’d probably see rock stars hanging out in back in the day.  
  
Becky is sitting at the bar, her back to Charlotte. Becky’s arms are crossed and resting on the bar counter, and the fabric of her black hoodie is stretched across her athletic back and shoulders.  
  
A tall woman is standing next to her in skinny jeans and an even tighter white t-shirt, she has to be one of the most perfect women Charlotte has ever seen: porcelain skin, thick black hair, all chiseled features and perfectly sculpted. The type of woman you would see in an advert for perfume or underwear. Men and woman glance and look at her while they move around, but currently the woman only has eyes for Becky. It’s actually a little infuriating. Fuck her.  
  
The woman tucks a card under Becky’s glass, smiling as she does so. She picks up her coat and by the time Charlotte reaches Becky the other woman has already sauntered away from them.  
  
“Sorry I’m late,” Charlotte says, slipping out of her jacket. “There was an accident and the traffic was crazy.”  
  
“Happens,” Becky replies. Although Charlotte thinks Becky looks sad when she says it. “I got you a drink,” she adds, nudging the orange juice over towards her.  
  
Charlotte pulls out the chair next to Becky and picks up a black winter jacket resting on the seat. She whistles, “Dude, this looks expensive.” She’s about to hand it back to Becky when she sees the inside of the collar. “Why are your initials on it?”  
  
“I’ve told you about Nattie, I wasn’t kiddin’ on when I said she was my mother hen at college.” Becky takes the coat from her and then, before Charlotte can sit, stands and hugs her.  
  
Charlotte loves the way she smells. Like home.  
  
“Way too long,” Becky says, and when she rests her chin on Charlotte’s shoulders, the personal feelings Charlotte keeps buried come straight to the surface. It doesn’t take much effort to push them away, she’s had a lot of practice over the years.  
  
“I see you’ve made a new friend tonight,” Charlotte states, and removes the business card from Becky’s glass. She waves it playfully between them.  
  
“Apparently.” Becky’s eyes are shiny with alcohol. Mischievous even. “Her name was Paige and she is a British yoga instructor with her own studio. As if I’d be interested in yoga. That’s more your thing with those long legs!”  
  
Charlotte laughs, realising just how much she’s missed Becky – how deep her feelings for the woman run.  
  
She should tell Becky.  
  
Becky glances at the watch on her wrist and frowns.  
  
“How much time have we got?” Charlotte queries, she has a feeling she isn’t going to like this answer. In fact, she knows she won’t.  
  
“About four minutes.”  
  
“Four?!” Her heart sinks into her stomach like a stone.  
  
“They changed my departure time,” Becky confirms. “I was going to call and tell you to go home but you said you were already here. I’m glad you are, even if I only get you for a few minutes. It’s been what, two months?”  
  
“Nearly three.”  
  
Becky smiles but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Numbers ain’t my strong point as you know.” She sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose, massaging the taut skin there. “Can you get a few days off at the end of the month? I’ll be home again and it would be good not to spend our time in the airport.”  
  
“For you? Yes,” Charlotte answers honestly.  
  
“Don’t you have to book time off?”  
  
“I’ll sort it, just tell me when you need me, Becky.”  
  
“Well,” Becky says, smiling and turning her full attention to Charlotte. “I’ll always need you, Charlotte.”  
  
Becky’s smile feels forced and her normally soothing words feel hollow to Charlotte. She glances at the row of empty glasses in front of Becky then leans closer and says: “Are you okay?”  
  
Charlotte sees something inside Becky relax. Then it vanishes and turns to annoyance when she hears her flight being called. Boarding has started and Becky gets to her feet.  
  
“I need to get going.”  
  
Charlotte nods because there’s nothing else she can really do. “I’ll walk with you then.”  
  
Charlotte does, her own arm through Becky’s, wondering if she should bring up what she needs to tell Becky. No, she thinks. There isn’t enough time, for one, and she needs Becky’s full attention – her full sober attention. She’s never seen Becky drink so much before a flight before.  
  
They reach the back of the security line which is surprisingly long given the hour. Charlotte leans in close to Becky again, smelling the alcohol on her as she whispers: “Are you sure you’re okay? Are you in trouble? Danger?”  
  
“Yeah, nah and nah.”  
  
Charlotte says nothing and stares at Becky.  
  
“Honest,” Becky says. “If I was I would tell you.”  
  
Charlotte believes her. But she finds herself pulling a familiar necklace over her shirt and her head and places it over Becky’s neck instead. “I think you need this more than me right now.”  
  
This time Becky’s smile does hit her eyes and she reaches for Charlotte’s hand, tangling their fingers together like it’s the most natural thing in the world.  
  
They have reached the first security check point and since Charlotte doesn’t have a boarding pass she has to step out of the line and she does so reluctantly, letting Becky’s hand drop. Becky hands her boarding pass to a bored and seemingly pissed off attendant behind the desk. Then she turns to Charlotte and hugs her again, fiercely this time, her body tensing against the blonde’s.  
  
“Thanks for coming.”  
  
“You know me, Becky,” Charlotte murmurs in response.  
  
Becky walks away into the line which is now feeding into the adjoining room. Something tells Charlotte to call out to her, to tell her to come back so they can talk here or back at the bar or at Charlotte’s, any damn place Becky wants. Becky can take a later flight or if there isn’t one available, she can take the first one out tomorrow morning, tomorrow evening, whenever.  
  
The important thing is that they should talk. She thinks Becky really wants to talk about something too.  
  
Becky needs to tell her what is bothering her because something obviously is and Charlotte needs to share some long overdue things with her too because she’s began to worry that if she doesn’t she’s going to lose her chance and Becky will find someone else.  
  
Just do it, a voice tells her. Do it now.  
  
But the moment has gone, Becky has already moved through the checkpoint and has stepped into the other terminal.  
  
Becky stands there side on, looking at the computer screens that are announcing the gate numbers for the dozens of flights that are due to depart. Her hand is up at her neck playing with a familiar crown on the end of a thin black rope, a crown that just a minute ago was resting against Charlotte’s own chest.  
  
When Becky finally turns around and walks away Charlotte sees her face and thinks Becky looks like someone who has willingly entered a familiar building and yet has no idea where the hell she really is.  
_

*****

Charlotte is in turmoil.  
  
It’s such a weird concept but her mind and her heart are everywhere, falling over each other in an attempt to work out what the fuck is going on.  
  
Becky.  
  
Becky who has hardly said a word to her in weeks and she’s not stupid, no, Charlotte prides herself on being pretty damn smart thank you very much. She lets her mind wander to a place where she rarely lets it go anymore because there’s no way that’s the reason Becky is being weird with her. She lets her mind go there until her heart beats painfully in her chest and then her mind is scurrying back behind the shadows of the ‘what ifs’ she’s collected over the years and most of the shadows take the form of Becky Lynch.  
  
Charlotte doesn’t ask Becky what’s wrong because she knows the more she pushes the more Becky will pull away and she doesn’t want that either. The past week has actually been a little more _normal._ Becky even speaks to her in the parking lot that they share next to Becky’s garage and she’s even text Charlotte to get the final details about the next couple of weeks. But it’s still not _their_ normal.  
  
The timer on someone’s watch goes off and Charlotte startles. Thankfully the people in the gym seem unaware of the inner conflict that’s waging a war in her mind. Some of them are too busy with weights, others with running machines and then others who just don’t care and are too busy with their own lives.  
  
The tell tale click of the door sounds and then Becky is there, full smile and everything being beamed in Charlotte's direction and for the first time in weeks Becky actually holds eye contact with her.  
  
“I need a favour,” Becky says as she approaches Charlotte and she refuses to look down at that shiny rock on Charlotte’s finger because nope. “A potential client of mine – who is a moron by the way but a rich one – hinted he would use our garage for his cars’ maintenance if I could get him an appointment with you since you’re the city’s new hot shot personal trainer now, he saw the picture of us all on my work bench and recognised you.”  
  
Charlotte laughs, it’s light and airy and it’s honest. “No problem if it helps you, give him my card and tell him to call me.”  
  
“Thank you. Oh, and what does this say?”  
  
Becky hands a mechanical diagram over to Charlotte, it looks like an engine but she can’t be sure, she feels her brows crinkle as she studies the notes scribbled on the paper. It’s Becky’s handwriting which is the most surprising thing, Becky’s handwriting is usually all loops and pretty but this is just scrawl.  
  
“Permanent orange… mountains?” Charlotte offers.  
  
“That’s what I got too,” Becky replies, taking back the diagram, “which obviously makes no fucking sense.” She stares at the diagram, willing the words to make some sort of sense in her brain. “Anyway, thank you but I better – “ Becky throws her thumb over her shoulder.  
  
“Of course, oh and I managed to get the flowers arranged.” Charlotte watches as Becky’s dark eyes dip just a little, she’d have missed it if she hadn’t been looking for something, anything really.  
  
“Good, glad you like em’.”  
  
Charlotte does like them, they are gorgeous. “I love them, I didn’t have you down as a flower enthusiast but you’re full of surprises sometimes, I’d never even heard of Peonies.”  
  
“They mean a good omen or something like that so, it fits for what you need them for. I read about them a while ago,” Becky answers.  
  
She’s half way out the door when Charlotte calls after her and God damn Charlotte because she’s been doing so well but when Charlotte says her name in that way her resolve dissolves like hot butter. Becky tries to plaster a smile on her face but it just isn’t happening.  
  
“Yeah?” she manages when she turns around and yikes they are close. They’re so close that Becky can see the tiny flecks of blue in Charlotte’s eyes when she looks up.  
  
“Thank you,” Charlotte whispers, and she takes Becky’s hand in her own, squeezing it for good measure and Becky’s pretty sure she’s going to end up as a puddle in the middle of the floor but no. She can’t. “Thank you for fixing my flower crisis.”  
  
Becky’s promised herself that she will not ruin this for Charlotte and she won’t because Becky can keep a promise and so can Sasha and Bayley so she’s going to be fine. She can do this. All she has to do is get through the next couple of weeks and then she can bury herself in her work or scream until her lungs burst, either way she just needs to get through it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say a massive thanks to everyone who left kudos or a comment or both on the first chapter, I really wasn't expecting that reaction to the story. It was awesome, so thanks again and I hope you enjoy this chapter just as much.

**Bear’s Den; Agape  
_  
_**

_I know that I don't wanna know who I am without you, I don't wanna know, I don't wanna know…_

* * *

_A week after Charlotte leaves Becky at the airport she gets a phone call. It’s late when she rolls over in bed and her voice is still croaky with sleep when she eventually answers.  
  
“Hey-lo.”  
  
“Charlotte!” Becky almost booms and Charlotte is pretty sure, no she’s 100% sure that Becky is drunk. She goes all loud and her accent gets broader when she’s drunk.  
  
“Hi.” Charlotte shakes her head to try and magic some of her sleepy thoughts away. “Are you okay?”  
  
“Me? I’m great. Grand actually!”  
  
Becky’s gone up another volume level. Charlotte also knows that Becky is lying.  
  
“Is that yoga woman still harassing you?” Charlotte bites playfully, “cause I’ll kick her ass.”  
  
Becky laughs then and it’s genuine. “Nah, I don’t want to be with her anyway.”  
  
“Why?” Charlotte asks and she’s a masochist; always has been when it comes to Becky. “She was… pretty and was clearly into you.”  
  
“Honestly Charlotte? I’d rather be with you.”  
  
Charlotte’s about to collect that admission and tuck it away safely, and jump up an down on her bed until she hears the slur on Becky’s last word ‘you’ and then she’s hurtling back down to earth with a proverbial bang. This is absolutely not a conversation to have under he influence of alcohol and she wills her heart rate to slow down from its skyrocketing.  
  
“You’re drunk, Becky.”  
  
“Yeah,” Becky relents easily, “but I mean what I said, I do.”  
  
“We’ll talk about it sober then.”  
  
“M'kay, I’ll call you tomorrow.” Becky giggles then, actually giggles and Charlotte’s never heard anything like it.  
  
“I hope you do call me tomorrow.”  
  
“I will. Charlotte?”  
  
“Yes, Becky?”  
  
“Can you stay on the phone with me until I fall asleep? Just talk or even count. I don’t really care – no! I mean I do care obviously I do care, I meant I don’t care about… wait what was I saying again?”  
  
“You’re ridiculous, Becky, but sure, I’ll stay on the phone with you,” Charlotte says with a smile and she forgets for a second that Becky can’t actually see it. She waits. She can hear Becky getting settled on the other end of the phone. “One,” Charlotte says and pauses as she hears Becky draw in a deep breath and then exhale.  
  
“Two.” She hears Becky hiccup and yawn.  
  
“Three.” She stands up and stretches her arms out as she holds the phone in the crook of her neck and shoulder.  
  
“Four.” She walks towards her bedroom window. If Charlotte runs her fingers over the glass pane she can feel the tiny grains of dust that she hasn’t managed to wipe off properly.  
  
“Five.” She can see her own mirror image in the glass. As she gets closer her reflection fades into nothing and outside appears, illuminated by the street lamps.  
  
“Six.”  
  
“Seven.”  
  
“Eight.”  
  
Becky’s asleep.  
  
“I love you, Becky,” Charlotte whispers so softly that her words are almost lost, “I hope that’s okay.”  
  
When the line clicks off, Charlotte sucks in a deep, harsh breath. She feels strangely light, like a helium balloon in the grasp of an unsafe hand.  
  
Becky doesn’t call her in the morning. She doesn’t call the day after that either.  
  
Charlotte decides then that she’s had enough.  
_

_*****  
_

Hook. Hook. Jab. Uppercut. Jab. Jab. Cross. Jab. Cross. Jab.  
  
Becky is in the gym, fully gloved, focused, eyes steely and feet positioned. Hammering the bag for all it is worth. She blinks sweat from her eyes but keeps pounding on the bag. There’s pain in her chest and arms and her legs are beginning to feel the first tingle of cramp. Her response is simply to go harder. Make every hit count. Let each hit burn. Hear every hard connection with the bag. Move her feet as much as she can.  
  
She knows her opponent isn’t real and can’t feel anything but it doesn’t stop her from trying because she can feel. She picks up her towel and wipes away most of the sweat before she starts on the bag again. It keeps her contained and directed.  
  
After twenty more minutes, Becky needs rest. She can’t ignore her body this time. She walks away from the bag reluctantly and heads for one of the benches, taking a drink of water and then exhaling. Her arms are shaking from the exercise and her legs are starting to feel like jelly.  
  
Becky’s never been one for self examination. She’d had this silly idea that she’d make her way in the world, settle down, get married, have kids and whatever the hell it is people call a normal life. That is the plan. That is what you grow up expecting to happen. Hell, that's what you're told _will_ happen regardless.  
  
No one ever suggests that it might be different; that you’ll fall stupidly in love with your best friend and you’ll end up at the gym battering a bag to let yourself feel something other than hurt because said best friend is marrying someone who isn't you.  
  
And then her phone rings.  
  
Her phone is attached to her arm in a gym strap because, well, who goes anywhere without their phone these days? She takes it from her arm and looks at the display. Her thumb hovers over the red and green option. Yes, no. Stop, go. So easy. Press the red and that will be it, the ringing will stop and maybe she can get peace for just two fucking minutes.  
  
Instead she just switches the ringer off. She has big plans to wallow in some severe self pity tonight and she doesn’t plan on doing it half assed.  
  
-  
  
A spell of light drizzly rain has turned the road and sidewalks into a shiny black mirror of distorted and odd reflections. Fractured images of streetlights and neon signs shimmer in and out of focus on the wet surface.  
  
Despite the weather the street is buzzing with activity. It’s a popular area of the city sprinkled with lively bars and clubs. Tipsy party goers drift from one venue to the next without a hint of concern. Blasts of electronic music boom out from one area and are met with equally loud blasts of rock music from another.  
  
Becky finds herself standing outside a building that looks more like an office building than any sort of bar. It’s a big shiny cube with a solitary splash of blue signage above the entrance door. There are people milling around outside laughing and chatting happily amongst each other.  
  
She pushes her way through the entrance to be met with low lights, music that isn’t loud enough to assault her ears and a bar that, while busy, isn’t bursting at the seams. There are people dotted around the place but no one seems to give her a second glance and that’s okay with her. In fact it's perfect for what she has planned for tonight.  
  
“What can I get you?” the woman from behind the bar asks. She looks happy to see Becky for some reason. “You look like a newbie and you look like you could use a drink.”  
  
Becky smiles and concedes. The woman behind the bar smiles right back at her. “You’re right.”  
  
“So what is it?” the woman asks, “people only come here for two things: number one, to get over someone or two, to get under someone and you look kinda sad so I’m guessing it is the first reason.”  
  
Becky leans against the bar and takes another look around at the varied assortment of people the place holds. She’s beginning to understand what the woman is talking about.  
  
“Mickie.” The woman offers her hand and Becky shakes it, offering her own name in return. “This one is on me.”  
  
Becky takes the glass from the woman’s outstretched hand brings it to her nose. It smells mainly of oranges, ice cracks inside the glass and she swirls the straw around the drink to bring it all together.  
  
“Thanks,” Becky says before she takes a generous sip through the straw. The drink tastes good, warm even as it slides down her throat.  
  
“So what’s the deal?” Mickie asks as she runs a damp cloth over the bar before placing a coaster down for Becky’s drink to sit on. “Break up? Divorce?”  
  
Becky doesn’t really have an answer that doesn’t sound pathetic in her head so she settles on the truth. “Nah, no break up or divorce for me.”  
  
Mickie simply nods and continues to wipe down the bar. “Okay, I guess it’s a less talking more pouring kind of night for you.”  
  
Becky laughs then. “You’re good at this kind of thing.”  
  
_-  
  
_It feels like someone is taking a sledgehammer and pounding it against her temple. Becky stays motionless for a few seconds, keeping her eyes glued shut, trying to decide whether it is her brain that is rattling around or whether someone really is pounding a sledgehammer against her head.  
  
Alcohol and her don’t really see eye to eye. Usually, out of mutual respect for each other, they keep their distance. Sure, she can have a few but she never really _drinks_ for the sole purpose of getting drunk, last night had been an exception to her rule. She peeks open a brown eye and then another.  
  
She’s in a bedroom but it isn’t hers and she’s in a bed but that’s also not hers. The bedroom is full of dark brooding colours with black bedding to match. Diffused daylight seeps through the dark curtains and she looks up at the ceiling as if that will give her more of a clue.  
  
The memory of last night comes back with a thud, like someone is beating a big bass drum in her ear. The gym. The alcohol. Did she… did she come to _Roman’s?_ There’s also clothes draped over the dresser to her right and they look a lot like hers. Oh God.  
  
No. Nope. Definitely not.  
  
She grimaces as she peeks below the duvet; she’s wearing a large t-shirt that is about three sizes too big for her but her underwear is still very much on and that’s great news. Good stuff. Okay, maybe things aren’t as bad as they seem. Becky pushes herself up on her elbow and feels her stomach swirl. Then again, maybe things are as bad as they seem.  
  
She can hear the sound of running water coming from the bathroom and the bedroom door has been left slightly ajar. She’s in Roman’s house. In Roman’s bed and Roman is in the bathroom brushing his teeth by the sounds of it. The water stops running and the bedroom door opens a few seconds later.  
  
“Good morning, sunshine,” Roman says with the kind of grin that just sets you at ease. “I bet you need painkillers!”  
  
He saunters off towards the kitchen without another word and Becky can only get out of bed, quickly change into her own clothes, and follow. She may as well get this over and done with, like ripping a band-aid off.  
  
“Roman, I’m not going to beat around the bush with you here,” Becky begins with a tip of her head and then she winces as if moving her head physically hurts and it does, she’ll have you know. “We didn’t, y’know?”  
  
Roman sits at his breakfast bar with toast, fruit and coffee in front of him and to be fair, he looks mildly offended at Becky’s insinuating words. “No, Becky, God no.”  
  
“Alright, don’t need to sound too happy about it,” Becky jokes as she sits down beside him and he slides a plate towards her that contains two pieces of toast. “How did I end up in your t-shirt and your bed then?”  
  
“You turned up at my door drunk and wouldn’t leave. You handed me a bottle and said 'no talking just pouring',” Roman answers simply. “I gave you my t-shirt to change into and I took the couch. I put your clothes on the dresser when I checked on you this morning, I was going to wake you up but you beat me to it.”  
  
Becky frowns and it hurts some more.  
  
“So, you gonna tell me what’s going on with you?” Roman asks as he tears another chunk out of his toast. Becky on the other hand can’t even look at hers right now. The toast is her enemy this morning.  
  
“Charlotte’s getting married.”  
  
“Yup, got that.”  
  
“To Thomas.”  
  
“Yup, got that too.”  
  
The silence stretches and then Roman interrupts her thoughts. “So, that's bad?”  
  
Becky shrugs because she can’t really do anything else. “I guess, I just don’t…” she trails off, unable to say what she really wants to.  
  
“Want her to?” Roman finishes for her. There’s further silence for a few minutes as Roman finishes his breakfast and then he’s talking again. “Can I ask you something?”  
  
Becky isn’t really sure why Roman is asking her because she knows Roman will say or ask whatever he wants whether Becky gives him permission to or not. That’s just the way Roman is with her, he says what he feels and you can either like it or lump it. Becky actually appreciates his directness, it saves a lot of hassle sometimes.  
  
“Do you not want Charlotte to get married or do you just not want her to get married to _him_?”  
  
Becky stretches her arms out in front of her and then brings her hands together, linking her fingers and pushing them away from her body. She winces when she hears the tell tale crack of finger joints, the small pop of it happening is grim in her current state.  
  
“That’s a trick question, isn’t it?”  
  
Roman smiles at her then, soft and easy as usual. “I don’t know, is it? You know what they say, denial isn’t just an Egyptian river.”  
  
“D’you ever think that life is something that happens but you’re not like, totally ready for it?” Becky asks him.  
  
Roman smiles again. “Sure, but that’s probably the whole point. Years can fly past and certain things can happen, but sometimes your heart just stays in the same place.” He moves off his stool and then puts an arm around her shoulders to give her a hug and he rests his head on her own. “I can’t fix anything with a hug,” he says, “but hugs never make anything worse either.

*****

 _“Nattie, I – “  
  
“Becky, I understand. You don’t need to apologise to me.  
  
“You come all this way to give me stupid moral support and then I do that. I overreacted with you. I’m an idiot.”  
  
Nattie takes the seat across from her and picks up the food menu. “You’re not an idiot, I took your flowers out the trash though, they were too pretty to be stuck there. I hope you don’t mind.”  
  
“Peonies,” Becky replies quietly, she wraps her hand around her tea mug, drawing strength from its warmth. “The one time I’m on the doorstep of Charlotte’s house prepared to tell her exactly how I feel and I get sucker punched and it’s not as if she didn’t know I’d be around, she did. I told her I was going to be around!”  
  
Nattie waves her hand in an attempt to get Becky to quiet down a little. _  
  
_Becky says gently: “What do I do?”_  
  
_“Maybe nothing right now,” Nattie says. “What you’re trying to do isn’t easy anymore, it’s like you and her have ran around in circles and got yourselves so tangled up that it’s a total mess. It’s not exactly a black and white situation.”  
  
Becky huffs because she already knows that much. “Okay?”  
  
“Pretend there are too many tools in that work bench of yours and don’t make a silly pun about that because I know you’re dying to!”  
  
Becky arches an eyebrow. “Tools? Really? That's what you're going with here?"  
  
Nattie smiles genuinely. “Just go with me, okay? If one of the tools tips over when you open the door and it starts to fall, you reach for it and try to catch it, right?”  
  
“Right,” Becky agrees because duh.  
  
“But,” Nattie holds up her index finger. “If you reach too quickly you’ll probably knock other tools over. You might save the first one but you’ll ultimately end up dropping more and then they'll all end up on the floor.”  
  
Becky gets it. It’s not just her involved in this anymore it’s Charlotte and now by extension, the guy she is apparently seeing. If she goes in all guns blazing she could ruin a friendship and a… a relationship? She hopes that’s not what Charlotte has with him.  
  
“I just – “  
  
“I know, sweetie,” Nattie reaches over and takes Becky’s hand in her own. “I remember when I first met you and kind of just thought you and her were together by the way you spoke.”  
  
“I’m coming home next year after I graduate,” Becky replies.  
  
“Does Charlotte know that?”  
  
“No. I was kind of going to tell her during my speech that I had rehearsed. I am a complete idiot. What the fuck was I thinking? If I ever do anything this stupid again you have permission to hit me a slap on the face.”  
  
Nattie squeezes her hand and Becky can see her going over something in her head.  
  
“You’ll probably get another chance at this Becky, but when that comes around you really need to take it because if she doesn’t end up with this person it’ll be someone else. And if she doesn’t realise that you’re the best then she’s an idiot too.”  
  
Becky ignores the burning in her cheeks._ _  
_

*****

Becky needs a drink. Or ten. Actually just give her the whole bottle.  
  
One week and her whole world is going to change.  
  
She doesn’t like whisky much but there’s enough pain in her head and her heart so she pours her glass right to the top. The mutual respect her and alcohol have has gone out the window recently.

*****

Five days and Charlotte is frantic because it’s slowly dawning on her that she is really getting married and God, what on earth were they thinking rushing into something as big as this?  
  
But then Thomas is taking her hand in the middle of the livingroom and he sways slightly before spinning her around and when he brings her closer she thinks maybe she can get through this after all. It’s just cold feet she reminds herself sharply, that’s all it is.  
  
She just has to push through this final stage.  
  
All she can hear now though is a small voice inside her head that is saying it shouldn’t be this difficult. It shouldn’t be this tough to get through what should be the happiest time of her life. It is a voice she has heard before but that doesn’t make it any easier to hear again. _  
_

*****

_When she finally reaches the park, Becky pulls into the first legal spot she can find, she grabs her gloves and steps out of the car just in time to catch a strong gust of frigid wind square in the face. Lots of people are standing around, watching piles of snow take shape.  
  
Becky wonders how she is ever going to find Charlotte is such a vast sea of anonymous faces. She finally spots Charlotte on the far side of the entrance across from the bench they once shared so long ago. Her modest five foot ten inch frame cuts a towering figure amongst all the crazy, screaming kids who have been allowed out to build snowmen in a rainbow of brightly coloured coats and hats and gloves.  
  
Charlotte, on the other hand, is dressed all in black, as if she is in mourning, swaddled in a huge puffy jacket, it’s so puffy that Becky doesn’t think she’ll be able to move her arms. It is obvious from her face that her mood is even blacker than her coat, because she is planting nasty kicks to a pile of snow in front of her.  
  
“Nice jacket, Charlotte,” Becky says with a laugh as she approaches. She hasn’t seen Charlotte in months and there’s something in her chest that aches because of that.  
  
“It’s about time you showed up! I can’t feel a thing. I think I have frostbite and hypothermia. I hate winter, I hate snow and I hate this cold. Remind me why I even agreed to this?”  
  
“Because you wanted to spend time with your best friend?” Becky offers.  
  
“Hmm,” Charlotte shrugs and she takes a few steps so that she is standing in front of Becky. “Hi.”  
  
“Hey. Before we do anything I have to admit, you look great, Charlotte. Most people just can’t get away with earmuffs these days.”  
  
Charlotte adjusts the earmuffs a little self-consciously. “Laugh now, Becky, freeze your ass off later. You’re dressed like you’re going on vacation, I mean what even is this?” Charlotte picks at the collar of Becky’s thin jacket and gives it a little tug, bringing them closer. “You should have worn that jacket you had at the airport.”  
  
“I’ll be fine but you look like a mobster.”  
  
“You’re ridiculous, let’s go.”  
  
Every year for the past four years, Becky and Charlotte have gone to the park together to watch the Christmas lights being switched on and enter the best snowman competition, weather permitting. It’s also the first time in four years that Becky doesn’t have to leave after Christmas.  
  
Charlotte secretly loves this silly tradition that they have together but she refuses to admit it to anyone, not even to Becky who would probably tease her about it everyday for the rest of her life. When she’d told Thomas her plans for the day he’d looked at her like she was talking nonsense but whatever, she can think about that later.  
_

_She bends down and sweeps up a glove full of dry, powdery snow. “How are we supposed to build anything with this?”  
  
Becky gestures towards the inside pocket of her jacket and pulls out a spray bottle full of water, smiling like a magician who has just revealed her best trick. “Watch and learn, you can use the water like glue!”  
  
“How the hell do you even know that? Never mind, just build us our snowman.”  
  
Fifteen minutes later Becky turns her back on their misshapen, pathetic half snowman that is shedding parts of its body with each gust of wind that passes by. “Look at the state of this, it’s the worst snowman in the whole park! The water trick didn’t even work!”  
  
Charlotte takes a few steps back and reigns in the laugh that is threatening to escape her mouth because she knows that will just annoy Becky further.  
  
“Don’t you dare laugh, Charlotte. I swear.”  
  
Charlotte breaks then; turning away and laughing uncontrollably as Becky tries her hardest to put the snowman back together again. It’s an impossible task and Becky knows it.  
  
Charlotte has no time to react when the first one hits her, and it does hit her, right on the back. She turns to find Becky standing with another snowball in her hand and with a sly look on her face that tells Charlotte Becky knows exactly what she’s just done.  
  
“Becky, you did not just – “  
  
The second one hits her on the shoulder and she can feel the snow that has some how bounced into the collar of her jacket sending cold water across her collarbone.  
  
“Okay, fine, if that’s how you want to play it,” Charlotte replies and bends down to pick up her own ball of snow. “I can throw just as good as you, Becky.”  
  
Charlotte’s words come back to bite her on the ass as some how Becky darts out the way of her snow ball and scarpers over to her left, throwing some childish insults Charlotte’s way in the process.  
  
Goddamn Becky Lynch.  
  
Charlotte misses again on the next throw and then the next one after that and Charlotte can see that Becky is almost giddy because of it.  
  
“Alright, Charlotte, I’ll give you a chance this time. I won’t even move, I promise!”  
  
Charlotte catches Becky with the next one and it’s a good hit, just below her chin. It just makes Becky go harder though and before Charlotte knows it she’s running around the park like a child with Becky hot on her heels in pursuit, launching snowball after snowball. Her stomach begins to cramp with laughing but when she turns around Becky is nowhere to be seen. It’s a trap, she knows that, she knows Becky is just waiting for her moment.  
  
Charlotte hears the swishing noise pass by her ear a minute later and knows she’s been caught. Her gloves are sodden and her hands are freezing and her stomach still hurts from laughing so she surrenders, lifting her hands up to prove that she has nothing to throw back.  
  
“Okay, you win, Becky. I give up.”  
  
“Thank God, my little legs can’t run through any more of this snow!” Becky bends down to put her hands on her knees and notices where they’ve ended up. “Y’know they should just name this bench after us. Can you remember the first time we sat here together?”  
  
Charlotte can’t help but make a face. “Yeah, I cried.”  
  
“If there’s ever a zombie apocalypse or somethin’ this is where you’ll find me so we can hightail it out of here together,” Becky says with a laugh. She's only half serious.  
  
“You’ve just come home and you’re already planning on leaving?”  
  
Becky stands up to her full height then, and okay it isn’t much but still, and looks at Charlotte who’s face is red from both the cold and running around, there’s strands of wet blonde hair breaking free from her woolly hat and her eyes are sparkling in the late afternoon light and she’s beautiful.  
  
“Nah, I’m not leaving. This is my home.”  
  
"Good," Charlotte says before she scoops up one last ball of snow and launches it at Becky.  
_

_  
_ ***** _  
_

Tomorrow.  
  
Becky stumbles out from Sasha’s back door and the chilly air hits her like a truck. She shakes her head and even that disorientates her a little, she can feel the alcohol swishing around her body at breakneck speed. She decides then that she won’t be drinking anymore, she’s only paced a few steps when Charlotte emerges behind her.  
  
“Where are you going? You’re not making a run for it are you?”  
  
“Shouldn’t that be me saying that to you? And I just needed some air,” Becky turns then and there’s Charlotte with a crown on her head and glitter everywhere. She has a badge attached to her dress too and Becky has barely looked at her all night.  
  
It’s just better that way. But she feels beyond guilty. Becky is a person standing in the middle of a hurricane pretending that it’s not even windy.  
  
“You’re drunk,” Becky grins as Charlotte slips off her heels and pads across the grass barefoot to where Becky is standing, there’s still an obvious height difference between them. “Yeah, definitely drunk if you're doing that.”  
  
“It’s nerves,” Charlotte replies and then she rests her head against Becky’s. “I have a lot of nerves.”  
  
“You’ll be alright,” Becky croaks and she hates the way her voice breaks, she knows Charlotte notices it. “You can do anything you put your mind to.”  
  
“I’m always okay when you’re here, Becky,” Charlotte whispers and she tilts her head down a little. Becky can feel Charlotte’s eyes boring into her very soul like she’s transparent and Charlotte can see through her, and maybe in some ways she can.  
  
Becky can’t breathe.  
  
They lapse into a silent no talking competition and both of them are apparently intent on winning it because neither of them speak for what feels like an age and Becky is getting restless until she looks up into the sky and there’s stars twinkling everywhere; winking at her, taunting her, and then there’s one that’s just still. It’s bright and bold and still and she decides then that it’s someone somewhere giving her some sort of message and it soothes her.  
  
“What are you looking at?” Charlotte asks quietly.  
  
Becky lifts her head upwards to look at her and Charlotte’s eyes aren’t hazy, they are as bright and clear as the sky above them and it would be so easy to press her lips against Charlotte’s but she doesn’t. She looks back up towards the sky and points to a star just off to the right.  
  
“The North Star.”  
  
“Polaris, I think they call it. That’s how people used to find their way home,” Charlotte tells her.  
  
“Y'know, that’s what I see too.”  
  
“Really?”  
  
“Yeah, really, Charlotte,” Becky says and she's feeling brave so she goes for it, “when I see you, I see my way back home.”

Charlotte slips her fingers into Becky’s then and she feels Becky tense for a second before fingers curl around her own. Becky’s hand feels bigger than hers, stronger even and the energy courses through her veins like a freight train.  
  
And then Becky is thinking – is it so impossible to imagine or believe – that they can find happiness in each other for a little while, which after all, is all they have.  
  
All anyone has.

Charlotte looks at her carefully. There’s no smile. Becky can see light eyes looking her over while Charlotte works something out in her mind. The blonde’s tongue moves along her lower lip, reflecting her anxiety or her doubts, Becky isn’t really sure which.

And they’re close, so damn close and Becky’s just about to lean upwards and press a kiss onto Charlotte’s lips when Bayley comes bouncing out of the door screaming Charlotte’s name and the spell they are currently under is severed.  
  
She feels Charlotte untwine their fingers and it sounds utterly ridiculous but Becky feels devastated. Devastated at the loss of contact; devastated at the fact that the woman she’s in love with is getting married tomorrow; devastated that she’ll probably never get another chance at this and she’s actually devastated at her own sheer bad luck.  
  
Becky decides quite quickly that the old ‘luck of the Irish’ saying is a crock of shit.  
  
She watches as Charlotte walks barefoot back across the grass and Becky realises that sometimes luck runs out and you have to accept that the life you wanted and the life you planned was just a dream trying to walk on water.

*****

Today.  
  
The dawn comes up entirely orange with no hint of pink or purple. The sky is rinsed blue, like an old t-shirt that’s been washed a hundred times over. Sasha’s house is warm but Becky feels cold and she’s shivering from a mixture of tiredness and apprehension. She’s light headed, achy with the need for sleep, but her mind is grinding like some old rusty, burnt out machine.  
  
She feels tears sting the back of her eyelids and her chest feels like it’s about to collapse in on itself. Heartbreak is like that sometimes. Like a water current, it finds an opening and then invades it until the pressure gets too much and then it explodes.  
  
It’s inevitable really.  
  
She slips on her jeans and Converse and snags her hoodie from the back of the door, carefully stepping over Bayley as she exits the bedroom. It’s like they are all seventeen again and what Becky would give to rewind to that stage in her life. She’d so things _a lot_ differently.  
  
She’s half way down the stairs when feet appear in her vision and her head snaps up just as she collides with Sasha on the bottom step, nearly sending them both flying. Luckily Sasha’s grip on the bar is solid and both of them remain upright and standing.  
  
“You’re bailing, Becky.” It’s not a question, merely a statement and Becky can’t really disagree with her. “You know, I always thought the only person Charlotte would marry would be you.”  
  
“I told you – “  
  
“Yeah, I get it and it’s scary,” Sasha snaps back, “but why would you even let it get to this stage? Thomas is a fucking douche.”  
  
“And yet, she’s choosing to marry the ‘fucking douche’. That ain't on me.”  
  
Becky pushes past Sasha then, shoulders bumping and Sasha is still surprisingly solid. By the time she has gotten outside she has no idea what the hell her plan is. Her house is too obvious a place to hide and the same goes for the garage. She can’t run or hide forever either. She walks for over an hour and finds herself waiting outside a coffee shop for it opening and seriously, how pathetic is her life?  
  
She tucks herself into the far away corner so that no one will bother her. Her phone rings and then texts start streaming in thick and fast. She switches it off because her head is buzzing enough and as shoves her phone in her pocket she finds her fingers going to the crown sitting on her neck. She turns it over between her fingers and looks down at it. It’s worn and torn but it’s still whole, a bit like herself. Looking at it calms the bees that are inside of her, already awake and stinging. She’s no idea why she put it on last night. The tears roll down her cheeks then. It’s crying without any noise, just drops of emotion making their own homes against her skin.  
  
She rests her chin on her free hand and listens to the music that is filtering out of the radio and into the coffee shop.  
  
_“… some day girl I don't know when, we're gonna get to that place where we really wanna go and we'll walk in the sun…”_  
  
Becky tugs at the necklace again and the rope snaps in half sending the little crown flying across the table.  
  
She grabs it and pushes back on her chair. When she gets out onto the street she begins to run.

*****

It’s surprisingly easy to get into the church and it’s even easier to find Charlotte and Becky knows she’s about to shatter her own heart into tiny little pieces. She knocks on the door to the little room and Charlotte’s eyes nearly fall out of her head when she sees who it is. Becky is standing there in shredded jeans and a hoodie and Charlotte looks frazzled and a little unsure and a little crushed.  
  
Becky feels the sharp shard of jealously embed itself into her chest at the fact that Charlotte is still going ahead with the wedding.  
  
“You look beautiful, Charlotte.” She does. Charlotte is the most stunning bride Becky has ever seen.  
  
“I’m getting married today.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
“You said you’d never hurt me.”  
  
“I know, and am really sorry about that. I just… wanted to make sure that you are doing the right thing, Charlotte.”  
  
“I am,” Charlotte replies quietly, like she’s testing the words out for herself.  
  
“Alright.”  
  
“Alright? That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say to me right now?”  
  
“That’s it,” Becky admits. “You look beautiful and… congratulations.”  
  
Becky doesn’t add ‘I’ll call you’ or “I’ll see you later’. She just leans down and delicately presses a kiss onto the corner of Charlotte’s mouth, she takes the blonde’s hand and tightly squeezes it. Then she turns and leaves. She makes her way down the stairs of the church towards the door.  
  
She can tell Charlotte thinks she’ll never speak to her again and Becky has to admit that maybe Charlotte is right this time.  
  
For a second Becky pictures the way Charlotte had looked at her no more than a minute ago. It already seems like a lifetime has passed. She feels her stomach churn in a mixture of gratitude and longing, blotted with a lot of guilt and a lot of regret.  
  
Then in a flash of insight, cutting with cool clarity through the fog of her colliding feelings, she knows what she hadn’t been able to say to Charlotte: ‘Don’t do it’ and ‘I love you’.  
  
Despite the sunny morning, huge droplets of rain begin splattering against the city's concrete skin, against the glass windows of its watchful eyes. A few guests that Becky doesn’t recognise are walking up the path to the dry sanctuary of the church, others stay put and simply flick their umbrellas open as if they'd been expecting this rain.  
  
Becky walks down through the path, out the gate and on through the rain. She tries to think of it as a new beginning and maybe in someway it is.

*****

It takes over an hour for the rain to stop and Becky is drenched. Soaked to the skin, even her Converse squelch when she walks. She looks around at the trees that shield the park where she’d first really extended a hand of friendship to Charlotte and clouds are passing by above her head quickly now.

Charlotte is married. She must be by now. Definitely. Fuck.  
  
“Goddamn you, Becky Lynch!”  
  
Becky stills then because no, surely not. She’s actually a little afraid to turn around in case she has started imagining things.  
  
“You don’t get to finally promise me forever and then walk away from me!”  
  
Becky feels something feebly flit across her shoulder and the little crown attached to the broken black rope bounces across the ground and lands near her feet.  
  
And then there’s Charlotte, who’s now nearly in her direct line of sight.  
  
Still in her wedding dress, rain drenched just as much as Becky is and her hair is a mess and her shoes are ruined and the bottom of her dress is completely wasted but she’s a vision. Charlotte’s furious. Becky can see the elegant lick of an angry fire dance in her eyes.  
  
“What’re you – “  
  
Charlotte bites her lip and wishes the butterflies in her stomach would shush because honestly, how stupid have her and Becky been? Really stupid, completely and irrationally stupid.  
  
“Becky, I can’t believe I ever agreed to marry him and I can’t believe you never tried to stop me!”  
  
Yep, Charlotte is utterly furious.  
  
“I – “  
  
“Becky, it’s always been you and I’ve lost track of the number of times I’ve tried to tell you that.”

She feels both of Becky’s hands on her cheeks almost instantly, holding her close and she swallows the embarrassment that she really should feel as her tears seep into Becky’s skin.  
  
A runaway bride, how fucking cliché.  
  
How ridiculous.  
  
But then the wave of anger slows its force inside of Charlotte and the bright outlook remains despite her current situation; sometimes there is no arguing with fate; neither her or Becky have moved an inch and that has to count for something.  
  
But then Becky’s hand moves to gently smooth Charlotte’s hair off her face and neck and Charlotte’s pretty certain her breath freezes in her chest. All her senses seem hyper aware. Becky’s hand strokes her hair again and then she trails her hands across Charlotte’s neck and shoulders and then her spine, making her shiver.  
  
Charlotte looks down into blazing dark eyes. “What are you doing?”  
  
Becky says nothing but the affection that’s painted in her eyes for Charlotte causes a ripple that leaves the blonde feeling adored and a little bit dizzy.  
  
Charlotte knows it’s going to happen when Becky tilts her chin up. Becky only hesitates for a second before she leans in to close the distance between them, and then their lips are finally pressed together again.  
  
Charlotte shuts her eyes at the last possible moment. There’s nothing but immense feeling and taste. The taste of Becky as she presses in deeper, mouth moving effortlessly against Charlotte’s own. The strong feeling of Becky’s hands being pressed against her hips, curling over her dress to bring them closer together.  
  
She feels the galaxy inside of her start to expand and pull apart, like fireworks exploding in different directions. Charlotte feels like she’s going to split apart against Becky’s lips. The elastic band that has been wrapped around her heart snaps and she can finally breathe again.  
  
Charlotte’s fingers move freely from Becky’s jaw until she is tangling her hands in sodden orange hair. There’s nothing more welcoming than the way Becky’s tongue finds her own. It’s hot and desperate and everything Charlotte remembers it to be when kissing Becky.  
  
Their noses bump together and Becky feels the last remnant of a tear slide down Charlotte’s cheek. She swipes at it with the pad of her thumb, content to kiss Charlotte’s fears away.  
  
“Becky,” Charlotte queries quietly when they finally break apart, foreheads resting together. “Do you love me?”  
  
“Yeah,” Becky doesn’t even have to think about the question Charlotte has just asked her. The answer is verging on automatic and it’s so freeing that Becky’s breath catches in a ball of emotion at the back of her throat. “I do. I love you. I always have. Wasn’t ever a question of whether I loved you, Charlotte. Just whether I told you.”  
  
“I love you, too.”  
  
“Really?”  
  
“Yes,” Charlotte admits, “I love you and I’ve never meant it more than I do right now.”  
  
“Good,” Becky breathes as she tips Charlotte’s chin downwards and brushes her nose against Charlotte’s own.  
  
They’re content and in love.  
  
It should be hard to believe considering the circumstances but when Charlotte presses her lips firmly against Becky’s again, it isn’t.  
  
It really isn’t.


End file.
